


The Writing Lesson (Fenris/Isabella/Anders)

by wendymarlowe



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Kink, Multi, Romance, Sex, Voyeurism, three-way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabella discovers an excellent way to help Fenris with his writing lessons and re-introduce him to the world of sexuality at the same time.  She invites Fenris to direct her through punishing (and pleasing) Anders - all while Anders doesn't know who's watching them.  But what will Anders do when he discovers her plot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Writing Lesson (Fenris/Isabella/Anders)

Isabella was suspiciously cheerful when she arrived at Fenris's mansion that afternoon for his reading lesson. She breezed in the door with a new slate and piece of chalk and rounded on him eagerly.

“We're going to kill two birds with one stone today, and I've had the perfect inspiration for how.”

Fenris eyed her with skepticism – Isabella's “inspirations” were rarely his idea of a good time. Then again, she was being kind enough to give him reading lessons, so he should at least listen. “Which two birds would this be?”

In answer, she lay a hand on his arm. Fenris grumbled and spun away. “That right there,” she said. “You don't like to be touched. It's been – how many years? – since you escaped Denarius, yet you are still afraid of getting close to anyone.”

“I don't want you touching me. If you think my lesson should be writing on me or something –”

She laughed. “That's the brilliant part of the plan – I'm not going to touch you at all. And we'll work on your writing. I've got to go, but meet me in my room at the Hanged Man this evening if you're interested – I'm bringing a friend.”

“Someone I know?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes. Yes indeed.”

***

Two hours of deliberation and pacing around his mansion later, Fenris knocked on her door. She opened it and ushered him inside, still grinning.

“I haven't agreed to anything yet, wench,” he said. “I'm just . . . admittedly curious.”

Isabella glanced down at the slate and chalk in his hands. “Curious enough to bring your writing materials like I asked you to – good. We'll need those.” She inclined her head to a lone wooden chair sitting off to one side of the room. “Now you sit in that, I'll tie you up, and –”

“HELL no. I'll not be restrained again.” Even the suggestion made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

She took one look at his mulish expression and sighed. “Full disclosure of my plan, then. You sit in the chair, I'll tie your waist – without touching you – and your legs. Your hands will be free, and I'll put the knots in front so you can untie yourself at any time.” She smirked. “I promise I'll even use normal knots that you'll be able to figure out.”

“Why would I want to be tied to a chair?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Because Anders will be here in a few minutes, blindfolded, and he won't know you're here. He'll probably suspect you're Hawke. And you'll be calling the shots.”

Fenris frowned, but he didn't – yet – tell her to go to hell.

She took that as a hint to continue outlining her insane plan. “I'll blindfold him before I let him in the room, I'll tie him to the bed, and then the rest will be up to you. I said we’d practice your writing, remember? You've got the slate – write down whatever you want me to do, and I'll do it. And you can . . . do whatever you want to do in the meantime, as long as you allow yourself to stay tied to the chair. I won't touch you, you won't touch anyone else, and you can direct me to punish Anders as much as you like.” Her smile took on a harder note. “I'll warn you, he can take a good deal of punishment – he's even more of a slut for it than I am.”

Fenris considered for a long moment. For all she'd teased him about his sexual prowess and the lyrium lines in his skin, Isabella had always been respectful of his preference to keep a little apart from Hawke's clan of misfits, at least physically. And while Hawke was off mooning over that blood mage elf, Fenris had been mooning over Hawke – and she kept silent on that too, even though she had to have guessed. He hadn't been . . . anything sexual, really . . . in years. At first it was a relief, to be out from under Denarius's control, to be free to NOT have his dick sucked or his ass manhandled whenever his master wanted to entertain his guests, but over the years the loneliness got heavier. And since Fenris couldn't bear to touch his dick more than was absolutely necessary to relieve his daily needs, he spent most of his time nowadays half-erect over nothing and hating every minute of it. Maybe this would be a beginning of something.

Isabella left him to brood, bustling around the room and ensuring everything was in order instead. When he still hadn't moved five minutes later, though, she coughed pointedly. “He'll be here any time now – are you in or not? Because if not, you'll need to leave now so Anders and I can enjoy some time alone.”

Fenris swore softly, but stalked over to the chair and lowered himself into it. “I don't know why I let you get me into this, but I'm just intrigued enough to go along with it. But only if you promise neither of you will touch me.”

“I promise.” She knelt to run a long loop of rope around his waist, then, tightening it against the back of the chair. Fenris had to hold his elbows awkwardly up in the air to keep her back from brushing his arms as she worked, but she managed without touching him once. She handed him back his chalk and slate, then reached for another piece of rope to bind his ankles to the chair legs.

He squirmed a bit, but submitted quietly. He expected a bit of panic at the feel of the ropes restraining him, but the panic didn't come – she had tied the ropes decisively but with a tiny bit of slack in them, so they weren't biting into his skin, and they actually felt nothing like the magical restraints Denarius had used when he wanted Fenris in position for things he didn't want to do. It was acceptable.

She finished the last knot and searched his face, her expression open and serious. “I'm going downstairs for a minute to retrieve Anders and to make sure he's blindfolded before he comes in. Will you be all right here?”

Would he? Fenris ran his fingers over the knot at his waist – true to her word, Isabella had used a big floppy bow rather than some obscure sailors’ knot. “I'll be fine.”

“I'll be back, then – not a sound from you until after we're done, unless you want him to guess who you are.” She rose gracefully to her feet and disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

***

“So why am I blindfolded?” Anders' voice drifted through the door as it was opened.

Isabella guided him through, then closed and locked the door behind them. “I've brought a special guest today. It's a secret.”

“Do I know him? Her?”

She shot a grin at Fenris. “Him, and you know him very well. But he's tied to a chair, so he's going to stay on his side of the room today, just watching. No worries about that.” She backed Anders' calves up against the bed and gave a shove, toppling him over onto the mattress. “You should be much more worried about me.”

Anders let out a grunt as he landed, but didn't seem to object to her rough treatment. “One of our little group, I'm guessing? Well you said it's a man, so it can't be Aveline – as if she would deign to come to the Hanged Man on her own in the first place – and it's not Merril, because Hawke would kill me if she saw me naked and realized what she was missing.”

Isabella chuckled low in her throat. “That wouldn't bother you?”

“The killing, probably. Her seeing me naked, not a bit. I'm fine with whoever it is, my dear, I'm just curious.”

“Good – you can stay that way. Wrists, please.” She tied his wrists together with practiced ease, then clambered onto the mattress so she could run the rope around the center bars of the headboard.

“You said he was tied to the chair, so it can't be Fenris – no way in hell he'd allow that. He’s too much of a prude. Probably glowy-hand your innards first. And Sebastian's got no interest in seeing my hairy ass, obviously. So that leaves Hawke or Varric. I think my money would be on Varric.”

Isabella swatted his ass lightly through his robe. “Not too hairy, thank Andraste. And you left out the dog.”

Anders groaned at that, or maybe at the feeling of Isabella giving the knot a final tug before leaving his hands bound over his head and leaping up from the mattress. “Only you would invite a dog to watch you tie me up.”

“All right, Mabari,” she said, looking at Fenris. “You call the shots – what do I do to him first?”

Fenris let out a long breath and looked down at the slate. Was he really ready for this? He glanced back up at Anders, smirking out from under the blindfold. The twat thought he was Varric. He picked up the chalk and began to write.

“Take off his robe,” Isabella read aloud. “Well that's certainly an obvious start.” She grabbed Anders’s ankle and dragged him roughly toward her, then hitched his robe up to expose his smallclothes. Anders tugged at the ropes binding his wrists, and again more forcefully when she reached over his chest to unlace the loops holding his cloak and pauldrons on. He didn’t make a sound, though, and neither did Fenris. Isabella carefully guided his cloak up his arms until it was balled around his wrists. The ropes prevented her from taking it off all the way. She moved back down his body and started on the shirt.

Fenris wiped off his slate and wrote again.

LEVE THE CLOK ON HIS ARMS SO I CAN SEE THE ROPES.

He tapped his chalk loudly, getting her attention, and held the slate up.

“Will do,” she said, with a smile just for him, and crawled directly over Anders’ face to reach and tug the cloak down a few inches. Anders protested, his words muffled under the fabric of his shirt and the corners of the cloak which now draped across most of his head, but now that his cloak was out of the way, Fenris could see the telltale shape of an erection starting in the mage’s breeches. He could feel a similar effect starting in his own, and he had already reached down to rub at it with the hand not already holding the chalk when he realized what he was doing.

Damn it, Isabella had been right. That shouldn’t have been so galling, given their situation, but it bothered him on some superficial level. Here he had actively been avoiding touching his cock for years, and she had him wanting . . . but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? And he’d have to be dead to not appreciate Isabella in full glory, absolutely in her element. Should he tell her to strip next?

No, she was doing just fine falling out of that loose linen top she always wore. And it was an interesting contrast, her fully clothed and Anders nearly naked. Nearly.

FEEL HIM THRU HIS PANTS AND THEN TAK THE PANTS OFF.

She waited while he wrote, idly running one palm up and down Anders’ bare chest. It was humiliating to take so long to form each letter, but Fenris was determined to make himself understood without Isabella having to ask for clarification. Anders seemed not to notice how long it took - he was shifting restlessly under Isabella’s touch, not making noises (yet?) but unable to keep completely still either.

Isabella complied immediately when Fenris held his slate up for her inspection. She grabbed Anders without preamble, groping him roughly through his trousers and letting out a pleased murmur at what she found. Andres choked on his breath, then, the noise still muffled under the fabric of his cloak where one corner draped across his mouth. She cupped him with her other hand, exploring the length of him with fingertips and palm while massaging from below. Fenris felt his own balls tingle in response.

“How should I do this? My hands, or my teeth?” She dipped one fingertip underneath the waistband of Anders’ pants, running it back and forth, seemingly oblivious to how Anders was trying to shift his hips to give her better access. She paused, teasing him, while Fenris erased the slate and wrote again.

YOR TEETH

“You’re in luck, Anders,” she said. “It’s teeth.”

“Thank Andraste,” Anders said. “Put me out of my misery, please, Varric!”

As if that would be anywhere near as much fun . . . Fenris felt something inside himself relax at Anders’ misconception. It was safer this way, somehow. And then Isabella leaned over Anders to nuzzle his cock before nibbling at his hip and tugging at his trousers with her teeth, and Fenris and Anders both jumped.

“Careful, my love, or I’ll have to spank you into submission,” she said from around a mouthful of fabric. Anders’ reply was unintelligible but forceful.

It took a few minutes and quite a bit of squirming, but Isabella managed to work Anders’ pants completely off his legs without using her hands. By the time she was done, Anders was tugging at his wrists and letting out an occasional moan as her teeth grazed his skin too closely. His erection was obvious, jutting proudly up from between his legs. Fenris couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

Hell, she had said he could do whatever he wanted with his own hands, didn’t she? Trying not to think about what he was doing, Fenris unbuttoned his own trousers and let his cock loose. The uncomfortable press of fabric against sensitive skin eased, replaced by the even more uncomfortable sensation of Isabella eyeing him approvingly. She didn’t say anything, though, just trailed her fingers back up the insides of Anders’ legs.

“Next?” she asked.

Fenris chickened out - he wanted to palm himself and relieve some of that aching tension, but he couldn’t bear to touch himself while she was looking. Not yet. Instead he put the slate in his lap - hiding his cock from her view for a moment - and wrote.

She laughed when she read it. “I can do that,” she said. “Anders, you’re squirming too much, so our guest requests your legs get tied down too. Don’t go anywhere.” She slid off the foot of the bed and dug in her trunk for another length of rope.

“Aren’t you going to touch me?” Anders whined from his place on the bed. “Damn it, Varric, tell her to do that thing she does with her tongue. It’s amazing.”

Fenris caught Isabella’s eye and held up his slate again.

TIE UP HIS COCK TOO

She made a face, eyes sparkling, but found a second, thinner strand of rope. She ran the longer one underneath the foot of the mattress, then quickly tied Anders’ ankles to each end. Using a much sturdier knot than she had used on him, Fenris noted.

“Not up to me - I’m just following orders today,” she announced. And caught Anders’ cock in one hand. Anders bucked and moaned, obviously enjoying the feel of how the rope kept him flat on his back without so much as even being able to roll. And then she slipped a loop of rope around his cock and tucked it under his balls.

“That tickles!” Anders said. “What are you - ohh!” His complaint got cut short when she tightened the loop suddenly. Fenris could feel an answering jump in his own cock as Anders bucked uselessly.

Isabella cinched the knot in neatly and held up the trailing end of the rope. “Should I tie this to anything, or leave it as it is?”

Fenris mulled through the possibilities, but ultimately decided . . .

RUN IT HEER TO ME.

The dawning look on Isabella’s face would have frightened him if he had been in Anders’ place, but luckily Anders wasn’t able to see. Fenris found himself wondering what “thing” it was she could do with her tongue. She didn’t volunteer any other suggestions, though, just retrieved another length of rope and tied it to the dangling end already in her hand. Together they were easily long enough for Fenris to drape one end across his lap. He tugged experimentally, pulling directly on Anders’ cock. And then again.

“Oh sweet Andraste!” Anders bucked again, unable to predict the pattern of Fenris’s tugs. Isabella stood at the foot of the bed, looking back and forth between the two men, and appearing very pleased with herself. Fenris cleared the slate and wrote again.

TAK OFF YOR PANTS AND SIT ON HIS FACE. MAK HIM MAK YOU COME.

She laughed aloud at that, the sound filling the small room. “Best idea yet! And something I’m sure Anders will appreciate.”

“What will I appreciate, love?” Anders said, or started to say, because Fenris jerked on the rope halfway through the word “love” and Anders temporarily lost the power of speech. “Isabella, are you- ah!” Fenris tugged again. “What are you- mmf! Fine, I won’t ta-” He never got to finish because Isabella was out of her trousers and planted on his face before he could form the word “talk.” 

“You don’t come until I do - guest’s orders!” she said cheerfully as she flicked the cloak and shirt of the way and smothered Anders between her legs. Anders moaned and said something against her flesh, but seemed quite content to comply.

The problem with their current configuration, Fenris found, was that he couldn’t see what was going on. Isabella was certainly theatrical enough - Anders quickly had her arching her back and letting out occasional breathy groans - but Anders’ face was hidden behind Isabella’s thigh. He must have been doing something right, though - Isabella’s groans grew more frequent and much louder. She reached into her cleavage and pulled one breast free, the nipple already contracted into a hard pebble. Fenris’s mouth went dry as she ran her palm across her bare skin, cupping the weight and then tweaking the nipple between her finger and her thumb as Anders worked.

Fenris’s hand stole unbidden to his cock. Isabella was much too occupied to pay any attention to him right now. He tried not to think about what he was doing, tried to focus on the way Isabella was writhing and moaning while Anders impaled her with his tongue . . . maybe if he didn’t look at his own lap . . .

The feel of his hand against his sensitive skin had him nearly jumping out of his chair, ropes or not. The ache in his cock didn’t go away, but it did change - to a throbbing need for more contact. Fenris could feel his cock swelling even further, growing harder, as he watched Isabella move. And his hand began to move in unison with her undulations.

The end came quickly. First Isabella - her moans changed in intensity for a long moment, then she shuddered and swore. Anders let out a muffled grunt, clearly proud of his accomplishment - so Fenris did the one thing he knew would rattle the mage. He picked up the end of the rope and tugged.

Anders yelped and came a moment later, his cock gushing its fluid into the air, covering his stomach and thighs with urgent spurts. Isabella - now looking considerably more contented - turned to see. And her eyes drifted back to Fenris’s lap.

Even just knowing she was looking - it was too much. Fenris came with a loud groan, master of his own pleasure for the first time he could ever remember. The enormity of the experience was stupefying. He looked down at his own cock in amazement - the rope around his waist was now damp and he felt like he had just run for miles.

“That’s not Varric.”

Fenris looked up - he had all but forgotten about Anders in the rush of emotion. Isabella was scrambling off Anders’ face, looking flushed and a bit embarrassed.

“Yes, well, I never said it was,” she replied testily.

“If you’re done with me for the moment - could you take the blindfold off me, love?” Anders asked.

Isabella caught Fenris’s gaze and he froze. There was no sense lying now - his voice and Varric’s sounded nothing alike. And even if he jumped out of the chair, threw on clothes, and darted out of the room . . . Anders would know. Maybe not immediately, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely sure quite yet, but eventually he would know.

Fenris knew he was many things, but he refused to be a coward. He nodded to Isabella, then untied himself and closed up his trousers while she was releasing Anders.

“So.” Anders shucked his robes off his wrists - where Isabella had bunched them to untie his blindfold and restraints - and sat up. He was naked, entirely naked, but he didn’t seem bothered one bit by his current state. “I suppose I ought to apologize for calling you a prude, then.”

“You weren’t entirely wrong.” Fenris looked intently at the headboard of the bed while he said it. What was the protocol for this sort of thing? Where was he supposed to direct his eyes? One minute he was pulling a rope to another man’s cock . . . He looked down at the loose end of the rope, still draped over the arm of his chair, and knocked it to the floor.

Isabella had the decency to set herself to rights first, tucking her escaped breast back into her corset and grabbing Anders’ cloak to spread across her lap as she sat on the bed next to him. “This doesn’t have to be awkward,” she said.

Anders shot her a glare Fenris usually only saw directed at himself. “You didn’t think things might be a bit . . . strained . . . once we saw each other?”

“I didn’t think that far.” She shrugged, obviously not ashamed at all of the admission. “I thought it would be good - for both of you. Andraste only knows why you two hate each other so much, but Fenris certainly wasn’t going to reach out, and you’ve been saying for months how much you’d enjoy it if I brought someone unexpected along.”

Fenris coughed. “I hate him because I have yet to meet a mage who is good for anything. Present company included.”

Anders muttered something, then rummaged in the pile of robes on the mattress beside him and drew out his staff.

“No!” Isabella said, grabbing for his hand, but he brushed her off.

“I’m not going to hurt him, love. Just going to introduce him to something.”

Fenris instinctively began to look around for a weapon, but all he had at hand were the slate, the chalk, and the ropes. He barely had time to assess before Anders’ spell hit him in the stomach.

And blossomed outward, filling his body with a pleasant heat. Fenris stopped scanning the room for heavy objects and fixed his gaze on Anders instead - the mage was smirking broadly. But Fenris couldn’t summon the energy to tell him off, because -

“Sweet Andraste!” The curse escaped his lips unbidden. The warmth filled every corner of him now, but focused in his groin. Fenris didn’t need to look down to see that his cock was growing again. He could feel it straining, aching to be touched - he had to concentrate to keep from palming himself and relieving some of the pressure. No way he would give Anders that satisfaction. But there was no release - just a steady throb as his libido reached the tipping point . . . and stayed there. Fenris groaned, knew he was panting, but something kept him from going over that edge.

Isabella stood up, the cloak dropping away from her lap as she stalked toward him. Fenris couldn’t help but let his gaze drift down her body, to where she was bare from the waist down. She stopped a mere foot away from him, watching his cock with interest.

“Are you ready to be touched now?”

 _Fuck it._ He nodded.


End file.
